The South Shall Rise Again
by Amerique
Summary: The states have filed for secession from the United States after the economy fails and a new president is elected. The northern and southern states have split up and the Confederacy is reborn. It's been 200 years since America had seen the Confederate States of America. Without the help of his friends, America is on his own as, once again, his country is at war with itself.
1. Prologue

**Holy cow. It's been like, ages since I posted anything! *sweatdrop* I have absolutely no excuse other than lack of inspiration. Anywho, I've been like, obsessed with Hetalia the last couple of months and this idea came to me awhile back when I was reading a Civil War fic on here. One sentence that I've heard many times when I was in school learning American history and even on TV and in movies, inspired me to write this. **

**Warnings: Violence, swearing possibly later on, uh..OOCness too.**

** Rating may change later, depending on how graphic I make things in later chapters. **

**Pairings: None. **

**I don't own Hetalia, just this fic and idea. If I owned Hetalia, I'd seriously be the happiest person alive xD**

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**The South Shall Rise Again**

Prologue

He was afraid, but he called upon all his courage as grenades exploded all around him and bullets raced through the air, some narrowly missing their target. Sweat, dirt, and blood caked his face and clothing as he gripped the assault riffle in his shaking hands. Ducking behind a tree, he quickly reloaded before peering around the side of the bullet ridden trunk and began firing. Ducking down and shielding himself as a grenade exploded a few yards away, he waited a moment for the dust to clear before sitting up. The constant explosions around him prevented him from using his hearing to detect the enemy and the smoke and dust clouds made his vision almost pointless.

Off to his right, a gray blur ran behind some trees, ready to shoot their target. Standing out like a sore thumb with his dark blue coat and light blue pants, he proved to be an easy target even through the choking smoke. A sudden burning sensation in his shoulder immediately told him he'd been hit. by what though, he couldn't be sure. Shrapnel and bullets were constantly flying through the air and impaling anything in their path. Straining his eyes through dirt covered glasses, he tried to spot any Gray Coats that may be nearby. Ignoring the burning sensation in his shoulder, he aimed at a gray blob attempting to hide behind a tree. Hesitating only momentarily, he pulled the trigger sending at least a dozen rounds into his target. The blob jerked violently before collapsing and disappearing from sight.

Between the deafening explosions and sounds of gunfire, the voices of men echoed through the forest, each voice shouting out orders or calling for missing comrades. It was impossible to tell friend from foe and proved to make the choice of shooting at the voices a bad one. In the confusion of the battle, he managed to steal a chance at escaping to a safer location where he could sort out his thoughts and come up with a plan. He hoped to reunite with his troop soon to refill his ammo and to have some backup as the battle drew on. He knew as well that he needed medical attention badly. His uniform was turning dark at his shoulder, the fabric torn and ruined. All the way around his waist, a dark stain stuck out like a sore thumb. The wound ached and burned from the sweat and dirt that was surely seeping into the deep cut. Infection had likely set in again as well. By now though, he was so used to that pain, that he had learned to live with it and ignore it.

Spotting a familiar figure in the distance through a thin cloud of smoke, he hurried towards the man only to be thrown back by an exploding grenade. Hitting the ground with a sickening thud, he lay there in a daze. Knowing he was injured badly from the explosion due to the new pain he felt all over, he still attempted to get to his feet once he regained his senses. Gritting his teeth against the pain that such a normal action caused, he blinked the tears from his eyes and looked where his comrade had been standing only to see what appeared to be a mutilated corpse sprawled across the ground, limbs blown completely away by the force of the explosion as blood and other body parts covered the nearby tree trunks and surrounding brush. The grenade had hit its target dead on.

Before he even had a chance to see if there was even a small chance his friend was alive or to even acknowledge the nauseous feeling settling in his stomach, a sharp kick to his back forced him to fall forward. Coughing through a combination of inhaling too much smoke and having the wind knocked out of him, he managed to turn over to see who had attacked him. Standing above him in an all-too-familiar gray coat and blue pants similar to his own, stood his assailant. The man sneered down at him with a cold glint in his blood red eyes. His tanned skin was covered in dirt, blood and sweat as well and the stains on his own uniform were much more noticeable on the lighter color.

"Ya damned Yank." He spat, aiming his own riffle at the downed soldier. He swallowed back his fear as he stared at the man above him, a stern expression on his bruised and bloodied face.

"Do what you may, but the North will win again. We defeated you once before and we'll do it again."

"Ha! Fat chance, ya Union scum. My ancestors promised tha' the South would rise again. An' this time, the Confederacy will prevail!"

"I seem to recall General Lee saying those exact words at one point. The South won't prevail. You'll fall just like before."

"Damned Yankee scum, shut yer trap!" The man pointed the barrel of his gun at his head, pressing it painfully against his forehead. He just stared up at his assailant, ready to face whatever may happen.

Images flashed through his mind as he thought back to what led up to this point. His friends worrying over his health and well being, his old enemies even showing concern for him. His older brother/father figure fussing over him the most despite the almost daily fighting the two did between each other. His twin brother's quiet, yet worry filled words echoed through his mind. "_Are you sure you're alright?" "Yeah, I'm fine. So stop worrying, bro!" _Of course that had been a lie. He was anything but fine then. His country had been in the early stages of another Great Depression and all fifty-states were seceding from the Union. That was three years ago. He hadn't seen his friends or brothers since April 12, 2061. It had been exactly two-hundred years since the first American Civil War had occurred.

He glared at the man towering over him, fully prepared to face what was to come. It was his duty, his responsibility to keep his country safe and the Union together. He had failed in both. But a small glimmer of hope remained in the form of the states that had chosen to support the Union instead of the Confederacy. He had the help of many great and powerful allies. Generals that were the best in the country, soldiers willing to sacrifice themselves in order to bring peace back to the crumbling nation, and civilians that helped the many soldiers with food, shelter and anything else that may come their way. His citizens were the backbone of the once great country. It was his fault that things had turned out the way they had. If he had learned to take better care of the economy by watching how much was spent and not letting the national debt get so out of hand to the point it was next to impossible to make enough money to ever pay it off, and if he had kept a better eye on the government; regardless of how little impact he truly had on it, then none of this would be happening.

A thick Southern accent brought him out of his thoughts."Any last words, Yankee scum?" The man sneered as his finger tightened around the trigger.

"The Union will win, just like before." He said, his voice filled with confidence.

"Like hell." The man spat as he pulled the trigger and Alfred's world went dark.

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**Hope you liked the prologue! I've got chapter one typed out and am working on chapter two. Please review and let me know if I should continue this. Also, any friendly criticism/advice is welcome!  
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	2. Chapter 1

The South Shall Rise Again

Chapter 1

_December 1st, 2060_

Alfred walked into the G8 conference room, practically dragging his feet. The usually hyper nation sat down heavily in his seat and let his head fall onto the table with a dull thud. None of the other nations had yet to arrive, giving the tired American some much needed quiet time. The other nations would be surprised to see him there before anyone else. On a normal day Alfred was usually the last one to arrive, unless it was his turn to give a speech, which he always jumped at the chance to give. Although all of his speeches had to include superheros and other nonsense his fellow nations never paid attention to. Today though, he could care less if he was to give a speech or not. With the way he was feeling, he would gladly shove any speeches down someone's throat without a second thought.

"America, wake your lazy arse up. The meeting is about to start." England. Great. That's all he needed was the bossy Briton getting onto him about sleeping during a meeting. Wait. When did he fall asleep to begin with?

With an annoyed grunt, he swatted Arthur's hand away. "Go away..." He grumbled, keeping his head on the table.

"Now is not the time to be sleeping, you git. You need to stop playing all of those blasted video games so late into the night and this would be avoided." Arthur scolded, his arms folded across his chest.

"Shut up you jerky limey." Alfred snapped, finally lifting his head to glare at his former charge.

"What's wrong? Did someone piss in your cheerios this morning?" Arthur asked, using one of the few sayings he liked that Alfred would use on occasion whenever one of the other nations was in a bad mood. That earned him another glare from the younger country.

"Go to hell." Alfred stood up and left the room, leaving behind a shocked Brit.

"Bloody hell...somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning..." With a quick shake of his head, Arthur sat down in his usual spot. He soon found himself staring at the now vacant seat Alfred had been sitting in moments earlier. Something was definitely bothering his former charge. Remembering the growing tension in America due to the, once again, declining economy, Arthur sighed and decided to let it slide. Even the most laid back and care-free countries deserved to vent their frustrations once in awhile. It was just odd seeing the usually beaming American acting like such a sour-puss.

Arthur was pulled out of his thoughts by an all-too-familiar and rather annoying voice. Great. The frog was here.

"_Angleterre_, I just saw _Am__é__rique _storming outside. Is everything alright, or did you two have another fight?"

"The git was sleeping, so I woke him up." Arthur replied.

"_Am__é__rique _was sleeping? That is unusual for him." Francis replied, taking his seat next to his younger brother.

"His economy is declining again. I have heard that it's worse than the last time it declined. And apparently the new president has made his people very unhappy." Arthur replied, arms folded across his chest.

"Hm, I feel a sense of _d__é____jà vu__." Francis responded, a thoughtful look on his face._

_"__Yes, so do I, I'm afraid. Didn't something similar happen about fifty years ago?"_

_"Forty-eight years. But ____oui__. If I remember correctly, many, if not all, of his states had tried to secede from his Union, yes?"_

_"Yes. None of the states did secede however. But Alfred was ill for quite some time."_

_"I am sure this is nothing. It is mostly likely something that will pass soon."_

_"Yes, I'm sure it will." Arthur nodded. _

_ It wasn't until nearly a half an hour after the rest of the nations arrived that Alfred finally came back in. He still looked worn out and slightly ill, but his normal cheerful, albeit annoying, attitude had returned._

_"The hero has returned!" The energetic young man announced as he slammed the door open. The other nations jumped at the sudden intrusion, a couple of irritated groans sounded out, but went completely unnoticed by Alfred. Matthew sat at the far end of the table watching his older twin with worried violet eyes. Living closer to him than any other nation, save for Juan*, who at the moment hated his northern neighbor due to a very heated dispute over something neither country could remember now. When the meeting officially got started, America sat in his seat, waiting for his turn to start his presentation. Once his turn came, he stood up and took his position at the head of the table. "So here's what I propose we do about global warming! We create a giant superhero and have him take this giant shield thing into that big empty space in the sky and he can like, put it in front of the sun and block all the heat! Problem solved!"_

_"Why don't we have someone find a brain and put it in the empty space between your ears, you git?" England scoffed, vaguely wondering where he had gone wrong when raising the younger nation all those years ago._

_America put his hands on his hips, frowning at his former charge. "You're just jealous that I can come up with such awesome ideas and you can't."_

_"Why in the bleeding hell would I be jealous of you?"_

_"Because I'm the hero and you're just my sidekick." _

_"I am not your bloody sidekick!"_

_"____C'est reparti__..." France muttered, putting a hand to his head. Somethings just never changed. _

_Germany sat at the table, watching the argument with an annoyed expression. His patience was wearing thin once again and it was only a matter of time before he reached his breaking point. And that point came when England and America began strangling each other while still managing to somehow insult each other._

_"ENOUGH!" Germany's voice rang through the room, immediately stopping England and America's fight. "Both of you, get out until you are civil enough to behave!" The angry German yelled, his accent coming out stronger than normal._

_"Why do I have to leave? That wanker started it!" England protested._

_"Don't make me gas you." Germany threatened, giving the other nation a cold glare. It effectively shut England up as he stormed out of the room. _

_"Stupid limey..." America grumbled as he sulked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Almost immediately after the door shut, voices were heard on the other side, muffled by the door. Curious, he put his ear to the door to listen._

_"That burger-bastardo is always causing trouble." Romano said. _

_"____O____ui.__ He is always causing trouble for zhe rest of us." France._

_"Perhaps we should attack him while he is weak." That voice belonged to China._

_"It vould prove interesting." France again._

_"No vone is attacking anyvone. However, it vould be nice if he kept his nose out of the vorld's business." Germany. _

_A chorus of agreements rang out, causing the American to frown. Tears threatened to fall from his sky blue eyes. He fought them back though because heroes don't cry. Hero. That was what he always thought of himself as. Helping people and other countries when they needed it and never asking anything in return. Sure there were times when he got his nose in where it didn't belong, but it was purely out of good intentions. Even if his boss had other plans during some of those moments. Not even bothering to listen to the rest of the conversation, America turned on his heel and stormed off. He made it around a corner when a sudden wave of dizziness hit him nearly causing him to stumble and fall. Leaning against the wall, he put a hand to his head as he closed his eyes in an attempt to make the world stop spinning. _

_"Damn dizzy spells..." He muttered. Over the past few months his health had started to go downhill. While he wasn't on the verge of keeling over anytime soon, he found it increasingly hard to do his normal daily activities. Always determined to be the hero though, he ignored his problems and focused instead on that of the other countries. The current upset in France over a new political leader was causing tension between France and its neighboring countries who also seemed to have issues with the new leader. America had lent a hand in that issue, offering financial aide for his friend. Or rather, now ex-friend. _

_Once the dizzy spell passed, America stood up straight and looked around to make sure no one had seen him. Shaking his head, he hugged his bomber jacket close, preparing himself to face the bitter December air. It had been snowing earlier and now a fair coating of snow covered the ground. The going would be slow getting home. Reaching the door, he stopped and looked back in the direction he had come, glaring at the wall on the opposite end. "I don't need them. None of them take me serious anyway. And they clearly don't appreciate my help. Lets see how far they get without America helping." With a grunt, he pushed the door open and ventured out into the frozen world._

_**Translations:**_

___**C'est reparti = Here we go again...-**__**French**_

___**Angleterre = England - **__**French**_

___**Amérique = America – **__**French**_

_**Notes:**_

_***This is the name I found was used most often for Mexico. I could be wrong about it being the most used name for that character though.**_


End file.
